


To: Kenny (K2 Secret Santa 2020)

by deadmysterion



Category: South Park
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, K2 Secret Santa 2020 (South Park), M/M, boyfriend under christmas tree moment, very original first time done ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadmysterion/pseuds/deadmysterion
Summary: "You'll be my present."Kyle had decided to take that literally.K2 Secret Santa gift for Valter!
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	To: Kenny (K2 Secret Santa 2020)

**Author's Note:**

> (Slightly late) K2 Secret Santa gift for Valter! I hope you like this cliché lil baby fic.

Kyle hasn't been in love before. This is the first time.

And if he's entirely honest, it's actually turned out to be a bit of an embarrassing experience. Not the fact that he loves Kenny, no, because Kenny is lovely and loving him is great. But the nosiness and mocking from his friends he could do without. And the looks — rather, the one specific _look,_ the one he'd never seen before but now recognizes as a nonverbal way of teasing _Oooohh, someone's in loovvee._ Everyone in his life flashes it intermittently now. Except for his brother. His brother just teases aloud. (Often followed by something like, _and I won't tell Mom you snuck out to see him last night, for 20 bucks._ )

Oh, if Ike could see him now. 

In Kyle's _defense,_ he'd somehow had the rotten luck of finding the one boy in Colorado for whom it was impossible to get a romantic gift. And fallen in love with him.

It's understandable why; it is. Kyle isn't wealthy by any means, but he's comfortable, and ever since he can remember, his gifts for birthdays and Hannukahs and the like have been _wants,_ not necessarily _needs._ He's asked for new phones, game consoles, books, a basketball hoop; been disappointed upon receiving pajamas and underwear from extended family for the Nth time. Kenny is different.

"You got me something for Hannukah," Kyle had whined last week, kneeling on the rug in front of the Broflovskis' living room (Kenny taking up the whole couch as per usual), pouting playfully the way he wouldn't be caught dead doing around anybody else. "Even though I _told_ you you didn't have to. And Christmas is a way bigger deal."

"It is," Kenny had agreed, sitting up from his sprawl to face his boyfriend. "Not really for us though. Karen makes me something, usually, but that's it. And I don't want _you_ —" he'd jabbed a finger to Kyle's chest, earning a glare in return — "spending money on me. You know that."

He had known that. "But it's a special occasion. There has to be something you want."

In what Kyle had erroneously thought might be the moment of truth, Kenny had sat there silently in response, appearing deep in thought until, leaning back in his seat, he'd revealed: "Socks."

"... Socks."

"Maybe a new kitchen knife," Kenny had pondered.

"You're so boring," Kyle had teasingly complained. "I can't believe my parents thought you were a bad influence."

"You don't know what I'm plannin' to do with that knife."

"There has to be _something._ " At this point Kyle had resigned the banter. "I'm gonna be spending the day with you." He'd taken Kenny's bony hands in his, ever-so-gently, doing the little thumb-rub (that he'd seen people do in movies and stuff). "So let me get you a present, a good one. Just this once."

Kenny had smiled at him, the tiny little _you dick, don't make me smile_ smile, one that Kyle knew well. He'd leaned in to say it, like it was some big secret, and not just a borderline come-on: "You'll be my present."

Kyle had decided to take that literally.

He's grateful for Karen's continued help, especially with her text updates on Kenny's whereabouts so he doesn't wait all prepared for too long, because he's only been sitting under the tree for a minute and he's already sure there are pine needles on his sweater. But he could have done without her extra fluff. He yanks a little blue barrette out of his hair.

Right on time, the front door pushes open, no knock.

Just a call: "I'm home, Kare. I'm going to Kyle's, I'm just gonna — oh my God."

Kyle blinks. He reaches up to poke the little gift-wrap bow sitting atop his head. "Merry Christmas."

He'd felt quite silly up until now, but truly, genuinely, he would wear a million more gift-bows and even let Karen braid his hair, paint his nails, just to see Kenny smile like he does: adorably bright and toothy (even though he's missing two), and _real,_ but he tragically has only a second to admire it until Kenny's mouth is on his.

He's a very good kisser. He'd rushed to crouch in front of his present, sitting criss-cross applesauce, and when they pull away, Kyle says, "you're gonna get your hair all tangled in the tree."

"Okay," Kenny says, but he helps Kyle to his feet anyway. "For me?"

"I got you something else," Kyle clarifies, because he did; Kenny has plenty of boring gifts to open, late at night by the fireplace channel on TV, but he has a feeling that this one will still be his favorite. "But, yes. Karen wrote me a tag."

It's hanging from his neck, and Kenny lifts it up very softly, opening it as though he's never touched paper before, gauging if it'll break. _"To: Kenny,"_ he reads. _"From: Santa._ Santa put a little reindeer sticker on it."

"Hmm-hm."

"I guess I must have been good this year."

"No. You're quite insufferable actually." As though challenging him, Kenny's taken to playing with the bow on Kyle's head, flicking it like he thinks it'll jingle. It makes Kyle feel just two times more silly but a hundred times more endeared; he thinks he might explode.

Kenny wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls him close.

"Hi," Kyle says awkwardly.

"You wanna decorate the tree now?" he asks next to Kyle's ear.

"No," Kyle repeats, "you'll tell me to put the star on, then make fun of me for being short."

Kenny pulls away to look him in the eye. "I would never do that." Boop. Kyle's nose has been booped. "I think if you tried, you could've just fit in my stocking, though."

 _If you were anyone else I'd hit you,_ Kyle thinks, but he doesn't say it because Kenny isn't anyone else, he's Kenny, who is allowed to do whatever he wants, because everything he does is intriguing and cute, like him. And Kenny would just make fun of him for saying it anyway, because he's Kenny. "Don't do that," is what he settles on.

"Do what?" Kyle swears he sees Kenny bat his eyelashes just a bit. He's silent for long enough that Kenny continues; "We could watch a movie instead. Bake cookies. Drink hot chocolate. Snow angels. We could knit a scarf."

Curious, Kyle asks, "Is that what you do on Christmas?"

"Yes."

"You bake?"

"Not well," Kenny admits. "But I can."

"The movie, then."

" _What?_ You don't want any sugar?"

"Stop that."


End file.
